Majoring in Sherlockology
by Abandoned Works
Summary: A new case is just what the doctor ordered, and consulting detective Sherlock Holmes gets just that, but nothing could prepare him for what this case would bring. The sociopath didn't like to show emotions. So why was this new worker at the morgue making him feel so intensely? STORY UP FOR ADOPTION, DETAILS INSIDE.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This work is abandoned. However, it is up for adoption, so if by the end of this you are inspired, feel free to check out my profile and PM me, and we can work something out :)**

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The tall man walked briskly down the hall. He wore a long, black coat and a dark blue scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck. His dark hair was a curly mess on his head, and high cheekbones made his icy eyes pop. At first look, one could assume he was in a rush - perhaps late for an appointment. But upon looking at the man's face, one could see a look of almost enjoyment.

The man slammed through the set of double doors leading into the morgue, where instead of the usual couple of dead bodies and Molly, there was one body, Molly, and a man and woman never seen before.

The tall man masked his surprise well, and quickly studied the two strangers.

"Sherlock," Molly grinned. "This is Valerie, the new worker I was telling you about, and her fiancé, Matt. Valerie's started working here a few weeks ago."

Sherlock didn't respond, his eyes raking over the couple before him. The man, Matt, was of average height, with short, curly blonde hair. His eyes were a deep green, and they regarded Sherlock wearily. Valerie had dark, almost raven hair, and it easily reached her waist, flowing with natural waves. Her eyes were deep chocolate, with a bright sparkle. Her white lab coat washed her out, making her look more pale than she really was. Even with her sneakers, she was a good two inches taller than her fiancée.

His eyes went back to Matt. Red lipstick slightly stained his collar, and even from where Sherlock stood, he could smell a faint floral perfume. That made three. Molly's soft lavender, a strawberry scent from Valerie, and the floral from Matt. The lipstick was much too dark for Valerie, and besides that fact, the dark haired woman was wearing a clear gloss.

"Cheating," Sherlock stated, making Valerie's eyes flash for a millisecond, and Matt's to widen slightly.

"Excuse me?" Matt asked. He had a slight northern accent, and Sherlock could tell that he had been in The States for some time.

Sherlock ignored him, taking in Valerie's reaction. Her back had stiffened, and her eyes darkened incredibly. She already knew.

"I said hello," Sherlock said, taking off his scarf and coat before throwing them to Molly.

Valerie tucked her hair behind her ear, and turned to her fiancée with a smile. "You better go, so you're not late for your meeting," she rushed. American.

Matt glared at Sherlock before kissing Valerie on the lips and walking out the door. "I'll see you Saturday," he called, and was gone.

Valerie glared after him. "Not in this lifetime," she muttered.

Molly sighed in relief, and marched to the body of a man lying on a table. "I thought he'd never leave," she huffed.

Valerie smiled, and offered her hand to Sherlock. "Valerie Wess," she introduced. "I was beginning to wonder when I would meet the famous Sherlock Holmes."

"Hardly famous," Sherlock shrugged, ignoring her hand. "You've known for nearly two weeks, and haven't said a word. Why? Revenge. Nothing major, simple enough." His deep, baritone voice resonated throughout the room. "So, what is it?"

Valerie blinked, taken back by the detectives straightforwardness. She turned around and gawked at Molly who smiled and nodded.

"I've been planning on moving out," Valerie shrugged. "It's not a revengeful plan."

"No, there's something else," Sherlock pressed. "It's in your eyes, you're angry. His thumbs - he's into the video games." Valerie blinked, and Sherlock smirked. "That's it, something with his games. I'd be careful if I were you. Don't want to get into trouble."

"The famous Sherlock Holmes," she sighed, and turned to help Molly. "I heard you're into dead people. Sorry to disappoint, but it's slow coming today."

Sherlock could hear a smirk in her tone, but ignored it. "I heard it was a murder," Sherlock stated, taking out his magnifying glass, and leaning down to study the victims pupils.

Molly nodded, looking at a clipboard. "Will Vixon," she said. "Found-"

"In an alley, obvious," Sherlock cut her off, his eyes still studying the dead man. "Check his pockets, you'll find he's been mugged. Ribs are bruised, and is beginning to form a black eye. Simply wrong place wrong time."

"And how do you suggest we find the suspect?" Valerie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock stared coolly at her, before lifting Mr. Vixon's upper lip. There was a faint red stain on his two front teeth, and Sherlock smirked. "Check the blood, and you have the murderer. During the struggle, our victim bit his attacker."

Molly grinned, and Valerie nodded. "Impressive," she decided, and swabbed the corpse's teeth.

Sherlock watched, before turning and walking out the door. He immediately backtracked, and stared at the dark haired woman for a few seconds. "When did you start working here?"

Valerie raised an eyebrow, and sat down next to a computer. "A few weeks ago."

Sherlock nodded. "You're slightly allergic to your cat, and your fiancée has been cheating on you with your twin sister for three months."

Valerie's jaw dropped, and her eyes shot to Molly, who looked apologetic. "But we've only been here a month," she stated.

"Someone's been busy then." Sherlock tied his scarf with a sarcastic smile, and once again, disappeared through the door.

"Is he always like that?" Valerie asked, staring after him.

"Unfortunately, yes," Molly sighed.

"And you used to like him?" Valerie asked, raising his eyebrows.

Molly shrugged. "He can be kind, in his own way once in a while. You just have to be around him as much as I have."

Valerie chuckled, and spun around in her chair. Molly had become her best friend in her short time in London. It was amazing how fast the two had clicked, but they didn't pay much attention to that.

"So will you start moving your things in tonight?" Molly asked, sitting down next to the American woman.

Valerie nodded, resting her chin in her palm. "Are you sure it isn't a problem? I don't want to get in your way."

Molly rolled her eyes, and smiled. "I'd hate to see you suffer another minute in that awful flat with that moron."

Valerie giggled, and the two set to work, determined to finish their report.


	2. Chapter 2

Several days had passed since Valerie and Sherlock first met, and since then, they had bumped into each other at the oddest of times. Mostly, it was at the morgue, and Sherlock would ask for thumbnails or hair clippings ("They're _experiments_. I wouldn't expect someone with such a low IQ to understand."), but once or twice they ran into each other on the streets of London.

Valerie had learned quite a bit on the famous detective and his blogger friend, but nothing had prepared her for the real thing. John Watson was as kind as described, and when Sherlock ran her over Thursday afternoon while chasing a suspect, it was John who stopped to make sure she was alright.

"Sorry about him," John had apologized, helping her pick up the bag she had dropped. "He just gets... excited."

It was now Saturday afternoon, and Valerie had almost finished moving her possessions into Molly's flat. The two had been preparing for this day all week, both not sure what to expect from the now ex-fiancée.

"What time is he supposed to get back?" Molly asked, taking a sip of her tea.

The two women were on their lunch break, at a small café just outside of Bart's Hospital.

"Later tonight," Valerie sighed, stabbing her salad with a fork. "He might already be back, though. Might be spending a few hours with Cass."

Cassidy was her younger twin sister, and had been living in London for a year.

Molly smiled apologetically, and jumped when her mobile beeped. "It's Sherlock," she said, looking confused. "Apparently there's been a murder. He wants us to inspect the bodies."

Nodding, Valerie jumped up and tossed the money on the table. She started to slip on her coat, and Molly began dragging her out the door.

By the time the two made it to the morgue, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were already observing the victims. When Valerie barged into the room, Johns eyes widened, and opened his mouth to say something before snapping it back shut.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Watson," Valerie smiled, slipping on her lab coat.

She saw Sherlock tense, an he stood in front of her, blocking her view.

"Coffee," he demanded. "Black, two sugars."

Molly walked around them, and gasped.

Curious, Valerie glared at Sherlock. "No," she retorted, "get it yourself."

She roughly shoved past the tall detective, and froze at the two corpses on the examining tables.

One was a female, with shoulder length raven like hair. She was tall and pale, and she looked as if she was resting peacefully. On the table next to her, laid a male with blonde curly hair. There was a bullet hole over his heart, and dried blood caked his skin.

With a strangled sob, Valerie knew exactly who they were. She stumbled back, refusing to believe that her sister and ex-fiancée were dead. She felt Molly grip her shoulder, but Valerie pushed her off.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she crumpled to the ground. Before she knew it, she screamed, and her vision started to fade. She could no longer push Molly away from her, and felt as if her world was spinning.

Sherlock watched on, feeling a hint of sympathy, but didn't show it. He watched as Molly tried to get Valerie to calm down, but to no avail.

Sherlock could see many emotions in Valerie's features. She was mostly in shock, not quite understanding the situation. She was devastated and panicking. Sherlock could see that she couldn't take her eyes from the bodies. Her eyes shown a mix of horror and guilt. It was easy to see that she hated herself in that moment.

The great consulting detective rubbed his temple, feeling a headache. Valerie was still sobbing and screaming. Like the calm man he was, he slowly walked over, and knelt down with the two women. He gently pressed his fingers to Valerie's pressure point, making her fall silent. A bit more pressure, and her eyelids closed.

"Thank you," Molly sighed, hugging Valerie tightly.

Sherlock simply nodded, and stood back up to examine the bodies.

"John, can you help me?" Molly asked, trying to adjust Valerie.

The army doctor quickly rushed over, and gently lifted her up bridal style. "We're should we put her?" He asked, looking around.

"Table." Sherlock pointed to an examining table on the other side of the room.

"Sherlock, I'm not putting her on that bloody table," John protested.

"Looks clean enough," Sherlock shrugged.

John hesitated a bit before sighing and gently setting Valerie onto the cool metal table.

"She's going to hate me for this," Molly muttered, stealing Sherlocks coat and draping it over the sleeping woman.

Sherlock pouted, but didn't say anything. He continued deducing the bodies, and collecting a saliva sample from the female.

"Have you been to the crime scene yet?" Molly asked, watching him.

"Briefly. Nothing important - besides, Anderson is there," Sherlock stated. "I can't risk being around him - he would drain all my brain cells."

John rolled his eyes, and leaned against the wall.

With one last look at the sleeping Valerie, Molly left to get everyone coffee.

While she was gone, Sherlock quickly switched his coat for Johns, ignoring the doctors protests.

By the time Molly had returned, Sherlock had taken a blood sample of Cassidy Wess, and was examining it under the microscope.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, placing a mug on the table next to the detective.

"O Negative blood," he shrugged. "Boring. Run a test for poisons."

"Poisons?"

The trio turned to see Valerie struggling to her feet. Molly rushed over to help, but the stubborn American shook her head.

"Can I get you anything?" Molly asked, biting her lip.

Valerie shook her head, and glanced at her lost loved ones. "I'm sorry for... overreacting," she muttered. "It was... unprofessional of me."

John opened his mouth to disagree, but Sherlock beat him to it. "It was highly unprofessional," he agreed. "Please refrain from acting up again in the future."

Valerie blinked, and sent a soft glare at his backside. The consulting detective was turned away, using his magnifying glass to examine the bullet wound on Matts chest.

Before she could respond, however, Sherlocks phone beeped, and the detective sighed. "John," he called, not moving.

"Where is it?" the doctor asked, looking aroun on the tables.

"Front pocket," Sherlock said, causing John to roll his eyes as he walked over and reached into his friends pocket.

"It's Lestrade," he informed. "He says he's on his way."

"Donovan and Anderson are the case," Sherlock huffed. "Brilliant."

"Why are they coming here?" Molly asked, forcing Valerie to sit down, and handing her a coffee.

"The two morons have it in their heads that Miss Wess is number one suspect."

"What?" Valerie asked, jumping to her feet.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her, and continued to take note of everything.

Glaring, Valerie marched over, and pushed the detective against the wall. John and Molly stared with wide eyes, while Sherlock just raised his eyebrow.

"Do you realize how annoying you are?" Valerie demanded, standing on her tip toes to look him in the eye. "Ever since I met you, you have been rude, and sarcastic, and just... just insufferable! What did you mean about the poison? Are you saying someone poisoned my sister? And what makes me the number one suspect? I didn't kill anyone."

"Obviously," he sighed. "Any person with brains could see that. Sadly for you, few people on this planet do. I can help prove your innocence, but not if you keep wrinkling my shirt."

Narrowing her eyes, Valerie stepped away from the detective and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Nodding, Sherlock stepped away from the wall, and turned to Molly. "Test for poisons. Now."

Molly nodded, and started to collect another blood sample.

"I'd say we have about two minutes before Lestrade gets here," Sherlock said, glancing at the clock.

"You still haven't said why I would be a suspect," Valerie pointed out.

Sherlock's eyes roamed over her, taking in every detail. She had bags under her eyes, but they were faint. When she wasn't focused, her eyes darted around the room, catching every movement. Her thumb and forefinger were slightly red, but it was rapidly fading.

"You're a reader," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Ever read a good mystery? Of course you have, it's your favorite. Tell me, how often is the poor, cheated on wife innocent?"

Valerie looked at the ground, nodding. "I see your point," she sighed, allowing Molly to force her to sit down again. "But that still doesn't-"

"Donavan and Anderson won't care," Sherlock snapped.

"Who are they?" Valerie asked.

"They're two detectives that don't... get along with Sherlock," John explained.

The group fell silent for a bit, watching as Molly prepared the tests.

It was a few minutes later when Lestrade calmly came through the door, looking slightly apologetic, flanked by Anderson and Donovan who looked satisfied. "Miss Wess," he sighed, glancing at the two bodies. "Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?"

Valerie shifted her weight, her eyes darting around the room. "I don't mind."

"I've already questioned the suspect," Sherlock stated. "She's innocent. You're jobs done."

"We'll determine that, Freak," Sally Donavan growled, crossing her arms. "You, Val, with us."

Valerie raised her eyebrows and stood up, mimicking Donavan's stance. "That's Miss Wess to you. Despite whatever you believe I did, I still expect to be respected. I'll answer any questions you have, but I have work to do."

John raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Molly smirked. Sherlock held no emotion, although he took silent pleasure at the surprised look from Donanvan.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Valerie squared her shoulders, and raised her chin. "Well?"

Anderson shook his head, and stepped forward. "Miss Wess, we would like to take you to Scotland Yard-"

"And I would like for you to stop wasting my time," Valerie snapped, picking up a clipboard, and joining Molly. "So if you have questions, you can ask them while I'm working."

Lestrade nodded, and sat down. "Miss Wess, can you tell us where you were this morning?"

Valerie pursed her lips. "Depends on what time, I suppose," she decided. "I left the apartment - er, flat - around six thirty this morning, and met Molly for breakfast at seven. After that, it was straight here."

"Where is your flat?" Anderson asked, writing in a notepad. "You shared it with your fiancée, correct?"

"Yes. It's about a ten minutes walk from here," Valerie told them, forcing herself to set to work on the case, despite her want to start crying again.

"Do you mind coming with us?" Lestrade asked, standing up. "I'm afraid we will have to insist on this."

Deciding she had been rude enough, Valerie looked to Molly. "Do you mind?"

Molly shook her head. "I'm used to doing these things by myself. I'll see you later."

Valerie nodded, and slipped off her lab coat, revealing a green v-neck sweater, and dark jeans. She slipped on her light grey wool coat and matching beret, before turning to the detectives and nodding.

"Sherlock, I assume you're coming?" Lestrade called, leading the way out the door.

The detective and his blogger grabbed their coats, and followed, John and Valerie calling their farewells to Molly over their shoulders.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite her protests, the detectives had her ride in the police car.

Sherlock and John rode in a cab, and gathered Valerie's address, beating the others to 342A Lancaster Road by five minutes.

Lestrade wasn't surprised, and Valerie tried not to show it.

Valerie dug for her keys, and swung the door open, stepping in after everyone else. After hanging her coat and hat on the coat rack, she led everyone into the living room. There was horrifying pink wallpaper, a cream love seat, and a small TV sitting on a small stand in the corner.

"Our room is just down the hall," she pointed. "It's sort of messy... I'm in the process of moving out."

"So soon?" Donavan asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I've been planing for weeks," Valerie nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Where to?" Lestrade asked.

"With Molly, obviously," Sherlock drawled.

"So you've known about Matthews cheating?" Anderson asked.

"He doesn't exactly clear his call log," Valerie told him, sitting down, and watching as Sherlock fled down the hall. Her cat, Sammy, curled around her legs, and she picked up the grey stray, burying her face in his fur. Sherlock was right - she was slightly allergic, but she adored the cat, and couldn't bare to let it go.

John watched her actions, before glancing around and following his friend.

The Scotland Yard detectives searched through the sitting room and kitchen, and were just about to search the backrooms, when Sherlock and John returned.

"We'll be taking Miss Wess back to the morgue," Sherlock declared, marching towards the door.

"We still have questioning," Anderson insisted.

"All the evidence you need will be found on the bedroom wall," Sherlock said, nodding.

"What?" Valerie asked, standing up. Sammy leaped off her lap, darting under the couch to get away from the strangers.

No one answered, and Lestrade started to walk down the hallway, but Valerie pushed her way to the front. She ran down the hall, and pushed into her bedroom. The grey bed quilt was pulled tightly, and the floor was spotless. She paid no attention to the state of her supposed messy room though, and gasped at the deep purple lipstick that marked the wall in swirling handwriting.

 _You're welcome, Love. They deserved much worse, but at least he can't hurt you anymore. Such a shame your own sister helped break your heart._

 _-Madame L_

It wasn't until John put a hand on her shoulder that Valerie realized she was shaking.

"Someone broke into my home," she murmured, her eyes staring into space. "They killed Cass and Matt. They killed my sister. They... they..."

"Miss Wess is innocent," Sherlock repeated. "We will be escorting her back to the morgue now."

Without another word, he stepped out of the room, leaving John to lead Valerie after him.

"Wait, but-"

"We still have questions," Anderson declared, following them.

"Why do you have questions, when all you need is on the wall," Sherlock sighed, holding the door open, and waving for John and Valerie to walk through.

She tried looking back, and was able to get a glimpse of Anderson before Sherlock slammed the door behind them. "Don't look back," he ordered, hailing a cab.

"But I-"

"No." A cab stopped in front of them, and John slid in, followed by Valerie and Sherlock. "St. Barts Hospital."

"Mr. Holmes, please," Valerie begged. "You're the great detective, how did that woman get into my apartment? Why did this Madame L kill my family?"

"Just Sherlock will do. Did you lock the door when you left this morning?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course I did, I'm not an idiot," Valerie snapped.

"Where's your key?"

"Sherlock, leave her alone," John scolded. "She's been through enough today."

"And holding up fine. Where is your key?" Sherlock held out his hand, palm open.

Valerie blinked, and reached into her coat pocket to grab her key. "What's this about? Why is my key so important?"

"The lock wasn't picked, it was opened with a key," Sherlock explained, taking the key and studying it. "No other signs of entry. Where did you get this key?"

"The landlord, Mr-"

"This is a new key, where's the original?" Sherlock asked, tossing the key back.

Valerie scrambled to catch it, before thinking. "I think Mr. Allen has the original. He only had two to start with, and gave one to Matt so we could make a copy."

"How long ago was that?"

"When we first moved here," Valerie said, squinting. "Mr. Holmes - er, Sherlock, what does this have to do with anything?"

"A lot. Madame L would never do a sloppy job. She's too clever, too classy," Sherlock explained.

"Classy?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Her note to Miss-"

"Valerie," Valerie corrected. "Call me Valerie."

"Her note to Valerie was in the dead center of the wall. Perfect calligraphy." Sherlock looked out the window as he continued talking. "Madame L has OCD. Your room was spotless, but the kitchen was a complete mess, as was the main room. Severe OCD. She took the time to clean your room and write the letter. Yes, she had a key made."

"Brilliant as always," John sighed.

Valerie raise her eyebrows and shook her head. "A murderer broke into my apartment just to write a note and clean my room." She put her head in her hands, and felt a tear slip down her cheek.

John put his hand on her shoulder, and gently rubbed her back.

"Matt was an orphan," Valerie stated, pulling her hair. "The only person he had was his aunt. No siblings, no cousins... his uncle died when he was a boy. No grandparents. I'll have to tell Julia." She sobbed, and the cabbie driver glanced back before focusing on the road again. "And Cassidy... I'll have to tell Mom and Dad. And Bobby..." She sobbed again, and subconsciously buried her face in Johns chest.

John looked surprised, but tried not to react. Sherlock rolled his eyes, and rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

The cab came to a halt, and after glancing at Valerie once more, Sherlock sighed and gave the cabbie new orders.

"Where are we going?" Valerie sniffed, slightly sitting up.

"Molly's flat," Sherlock told her. "It's obvious you're in no condition to work. You'll only get in the way."

John sent him a disapproving glare, whitch the consulting detective promptly ignored.

Valerie sniffled again, and tried to quiet down. "I'll have to tell Molly," she said softly, pulling out her phone.

"No need," Sherlock told her, quickly flashing his own phone. Valerie was just able to get a glimpse of Molly's name before the phone was out of sight.

Blinking, Valerie started to put her phone away, but Sherlock took it.

"Your mobiles new," he observed. "You've been taking good care of it, a gift."

Glaring, Valerie snatched it back. "I'm beginning to think you just like to show off," she growled, wiping her eyes.

John laughed, but quickly covered his mouth. Sherlock sent a glare at him.

"Well you do," John protested.

The cabbie stopped in front of Molly and now Valerie's building. Sherlock handed him the money, and stepped out of the car. Valerie clambered out after him, and expected him to get back in, but was surprised when John stepped out as well.

"Um...," she stammered. "Are you-?"

"Expecting to come in?" Sherlock finished. "Yes."

"Why?" she asked.

"A better look around, checking to make sure Madame L hasn't shown up." Sherlock shrugged, and stepped up to the door. "Shall I go on?"

Valerie glanced at John, who shrugged. With a sigh, she stepped up to the door, and reached for the key under a rock.

"It's a mess," she warned. "All my boxes and stuff are in here, remember?" She swung the door open, and her jaw dropped.

The front room was spotless, and all of her boxes had been removed.

"What the...?" She trailed off, and dashed to the room upstairs, where she would be staying as soon as she finished moving in. She ignored Sherlock and John who followed after her.

The door banged against the wall as she ran in, and screamed at the tall man who was climbing out the window.

When Sherlock and John rounded the corner, the tall detective immediately chased after him, leaving John to run back through the front door to corner him off.

Valerie stayed where she was, frozen by fear. She looked around the room, gaping at the now deep purple walls. On the bed, there was a cream envelope with purple lipstick markings, and she hesitantly walked over to pick it up.

 _I thought your new room could use a bit more of a home-y feel. I wasn't sure what you would think of the color, but I find purple to be gorgeous. Unfortunately, you won't hear from me again - more cheaters to discipline, you see. I have felt your heartbreak before, and I know the only way to get rid of such pain is to get revenge. And this way, you don't have to get your hands dirty._

 _Much love,_

 _Madame L_

Valerie looked around at the room to see all of her clothes were either hung up in the wardrobe, or folded neatly in drawers.

She slid to the ground, leaning against the bed, and taking deep breaths. The paint fumes were starting to get to her, but she didn't care. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the clock. Too much had happened today, and it was only four in the afternoon.

Scottland Yard wouldn't care enough to call the families, and Valerie knew she would be stuck with the chore.

With shaking hands, she pulled her phone from her pocket and held down the speed dial for her mother.

" _Hello?_ " a voice answered, and Valerie covered her mouth, her heart breaking. " _Val, is that you?"_

Valerie nodded with her eyes shut. "Yeah, Mom. It's me."

She could hear the smile in her mothers voice as she began to talk excitedly. " _Oh, Dear, I've been meaning to call you. I'm just too afraid to call you in the middle of the night or something. Do you realize it's ten at night here?"_ Stacy Wess continued to babble. When she started discussing wedding plans, Valerie couldn't take it anymore.

"Mom? Is Dad there?" she asked, trying to control the shaking inher voice.

" _He's out with the guys tonight_ ," Stacy sighed. "' _Bowling Night.' How dumb does that man think I am? Did you want to talk to him? I'm sure I can get Bobby out of his room-"_

"No, don't get Bobby," Valerie rushed. "I... I mean... something happened."

It was silent on the other end, and Stacy seemed to finally catch the sadness is her daughters voice. " _What's wrong? Is it Matt?"_

"S-something like that," Valerie whispered. "It's... it's Cass and Matt. They..." She broke off into a sob, but her mother stayed quiet. "They're dead, Mom. They've been killed."

" _Valerie Anne Wess, if you think this is funny-"_

"Why would I joke about this, Mom?" she shouted, pulling at her hair. "They... this lady, Madame L, she killed them."

" _Has this woman been caught_?" Stacy asked. " _Do the police have her in custody?"_

"No," Valerie whimpered. "She keeps leaving notes behind, keeps breaking into Mo- my apartment."

" _Why? Is she after you, too?"_ Valerie could hear her mother crying, and tried to quiet her own tears. " _Are you safe? The police over there better not dare leave you alone."_

"Um... yeah, they have someone here with me," she lied. "I'm okay."

" _Why would someone do this?"_ Stacy whispered, and Valerie found herself glaring at the envelope in her hand.

"I don't know," she lied again. "The notes are just... just Madame L being a twat." She closed her eyes, and tried to wipe her cheeks.

Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway, silently observing. He had given up the chase ages ago, when the man dove into traffic, nearly causing a wreck, but John didn't know that. Sherlock would text him later, when he found it necessary.

In all honesty, Sherlock was impressed at Valerie's lying skills. Her voice only trembled a tiny bit, and anyone without a brain would think it was due to her crying. But the consulting detective knew better - he _always_ knew better.

Valerie hadn't noticed him, as she was either glaring at the small purple envelope or squeezing her eyes tight. She would occasionally grab a fistful of her hair and pull at it, showing her frustration and inability to understand, or wipe away her tears, trying to be brave for herself.

It was minutes later when Valerie hung up, and sighed, burying her face in her hands.

"You seem to be holding up well, considering," Sherlock observed, making the dark haired woman jump up, and grab the closest thing to her - a high heeled shoe that was tucked under the bed.

Her eyes were red and puffy, but when she saw it was only Sherlock, she sighed, and collapsed back down to the ground. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked, but it was just above a whisper.

"Long enough to hear you lie to your mother - twice."

"Well what was I supposed to say, oh great and powerful?" she snapped, throwing the shoe in his direction.

Sherlock easily side stepped it, and calmly walked over to take the envelope. "What does it say?" he asked, looking past the tear stains.

"What does what say?" Valerie grumbled, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"The letter in your hand," Sherlock drawled with raised eyebrows.

Valerie blinked, and tightened her grip in the envelope. "Madame L, sending her regards," she said, glaring at it.

"May I?" Sherlock held out his hand, and she hesitantly handed it to him.

Their hands brushed for a second, but it was enough for both to notice the icy skin of the other.

Sherlock assumed it was because of her fear and all that she had been through, but Valerie had pulled away too soon for him to get a proper read.

Sherlock read the letter, and Valerie paid close attention to his facial features as he did so.

He was emotionless, and his eyes scanned quickly over the page.

Valerie wandered how anyone could read people quite like Mr. Holmes. It was a mystery to her, and her mind wandered as she thought.

Sherlock finished reading the letter for the third time, deducing all he could from the short note. He started to hand it back to Valerie, who seemed to be staring through him. He recognized this look, as he often did the same thing, when he was in deep thought.

Valerie's hair was draped to one side, over her left shoulder, and her brown eyes were glazed over. She tremurred slightly, and Sherlock could see faint beads of sweat on her forehead.

Sighing, Sherlock texted John, telling him to return to Molly's flat.

John was the more compassionate of the two - surely he would be able to get the woman to calm down enough to talk properly.


	4. Chapter 4

John had made tea for Valerie, even though she insisted she just needed a good shot of alcohol.

"I'm not British," she reminded them. "I don't believe that tea can bring world peace like you guys."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, sitting opposite her in one of the kitchen chairs. His hands were steepled under his chin, and his eyes were narrowed as he studied the woman before him. John leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, and a cup of tea in his own hands.

Valerie sighed at the men, and took a sip of her tea, before grimacing and dumping it in the sink. She stuck her head into the fridge, and reemerged with a quart of vanilla ice cream.

Sherlock watched her every movement, taking in how she kept tucking that particular strand of hair behind her ear, and how her eyes darted to him every few seconds.

"I would offer you some," she sighed, taking out a spoon, "but I've decided I don't like you. John, on the other hand... I guess he's not too bad."

John raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised.

"Wouldn't you rather have the chocolate?" Sherlock asked, emotionless.

"Excuse me?" she asked, the spoon halfway between her mouth and the quart. "How could you-? There's no way you could've-"

"You have a sweet tooth. Obvious. The kitchen back at your flat was full of sweets," Sherlock stated. "There was a slight hesitation when you opened the freezer door. Judging by-"

"I get it," Valerie huffed. "Big genius psychopath. Really, I'm impressed." She glared, and slammed the lid back onto the carton, before shoving it back into the freezer, and pulling out the chocolate. "If you stayed to show off, congratulations. Mission complete."

John stood up, and placed his tea on the counter. "Valerie, we just want to make sure you're okay," he assured. "You've been through a lot today."

"And I thank you for that, Dr. Watson," she nodded. "However, I think your friend here has a different goal in mind. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Sherlock was pouting from being interrupted, and stood up. "You'll hear from us soon." He grabbed his coat, and began to walk out the door.

Valerie followed both men out, and stopped at the door. "I really hope not, Mr. Holmes. If I do see you again, don't expect me to be as... kind as I am now." With a curt nod, she slammed the door, barely missing John, who jumped slightly.

"Well, she was... nice," he muttered, following Sherlock to the curb. "What do you make of it?"

"She feels guilty. She's hiding something, I can feel it," Sherlock said, clenching his jaw. "She wanted us out of the flat. But whatever she's keeping from us, it's not at Molly's flat, it's at hers. She's clever, but doesn't realize it, she's too busy feeling sorry for herself and the world. Cares too much. Obviously she's self consious, but she-"

"I meant about the case," John cut in. "What do you make of the case?"

"Our 'Madame L' was cheated on before," Sherlock recovered, pulling out the note that Valerie had handed to him earlier. "Possibly more than once. She now believes she needs to get rid of every other man who cheats on their wife and-or girlfriend. Really, John, this is obvious." He hailed a cab before continuing. "As for the man we found in Valerie's room, nothing but a henchman, hardly important."

"If he's a henchman, wouldn't he be able to give us information?" John asked, clambering into the car after Sherlock, who instructed the driver to take them to Bart's Hospital.

"No, Madame L is too clever. He's probably never seen her face, and if he has, he's trained to keep silent." Sherlock pulled out his phone, looking at text messages.

"Trained?" John inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Hemlock," Sherlock stated, flipping his phone around to show the confused doctor. "The sister was killed with Hemlock. Symptoms could easily be mistaken for an allergic reaction. Molly should have more information in her medical history."

John sighed, realizing he wasn't going to be getting an answer. To him, the case was simple, with confusing plot twists thrown in. He would just do as he always did - sit tight, and wait.

/-\

Valerie lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. She wished it was winter. Ice skating was one if the few things that could calm her down, and after this disastrous day, an evening on a frozen pond was exactly what she needed.

It had been a few hours since the consulting detective and blogging doctor had left her, and she was beginning to worry about Molly. Valerie had sent the auborn woman a text an hour before, asking to pick up Sammy.

Her apartment was the last place she wanted to be, along with that horrid room down the hall. She debated on staying in a hotel for a few days, but after figuring the numbers in her head, Valerie realized she couldn't afford to stay there for as long as she wanted.

Her phone rang on her stomach, and without looking at the called I.D., answered.

"Valerie speaking," she stated, her voice monotone.

"Val, it's me," she heard, and slightly perked up at the sound if Molly's voice.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, sitting up.

Molly sighed. "Was your sister allergic to anything?" she asked.

"Mint," Valerie answered, confused. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Was it anything serious?" Molly pressed. "Something that would cause alarm?"

Valerie paused for a bit, thinking. "She would get sick, and her eyes would puff up, but that was it. She didn't care, but always had her medicine with her." Valerie furrowed her eyebrows. "Are you saying Cass was killed by mint?"

"No," her friend promised. "Sherlock is working on some theories. No, it was... it was Hemlock."

Valerie sat up straighter, running her fingers through her hair. "Hemlock?" she repeated. "But that... that takes several hours to take affect, there's no way that... I mean, she would've noticed..."

"Sherlock is still working on the details," Molly told her. "He's in his mind palace now."

"His mind... what?" Valerie shook her head. "Never mind; I don't want to know."

Molly chuckled. "You probably don't. Have you... have you phoned your parents?"

Sighing, Valerie nodded, even though Molly couldn't see. "I still have to call Matt's aunt... I just...," she trailed off, fighting the tears. "I can't bring myself to do it."

Molly was silent for a bit, and suddenly a crashing sound could be heard on the other end. "Sherlock, that was important!" she shouted, and Valerie couldn't help but smile slightly. "Val, I'm sorry, I've got to go. But you need to call his family. They would rather hear it from you."

"I know," she sighed. "I will now, I guess. Good luck with you-know-who."

"He may be rude, but he's not Voldemort," Molly laughed,and Valerie blinked, before laughing.

They said their farewells, and then Valerie stared at her contact list for a solid five minutes. Before she could loose her nerve, she hit the call button, and waited as the phone rang.

" _Valerie!_ " she heard on the other end, and the raven haired woman bit her lip.

"Hello Julia," she said softly.

" _How are you?_ " the woman asked, and Valerie could picture the old woman sitting in her favorite chair, probably drinking tea, like usual.

"I, um... I have some news." Valerie struggled for words, and stared at her engagement ring. She hadn't taken it off yet, despite her earlier thoughts. She took a deep breath before continuing. "It's um... about Matt."

" _Is everything alright with you two?_ " Julia asked, sounding concerned.

"Julia," Valerie whispered, "I'm sorry." Again, the raven haired woman burst into tears, and grabbed a throw pillow, hugging it to her chest. "He... he and Cass were... they were out for lunch. Something happened, and I-"

" _What happened, Valerie?_ " Julia demanded, urgency clear in her voice. " _What happened? Are they okay?"_

"They didn't make it," Valerie whispered. "They were k-killed." There was a crash on the other end, and Valerie panicked. "Julia? Julia, are you alright?"

" _I'm on the next train down_ ," the woman stated, before hanging up.

Valerie stared ahead absently, slightly shocked by Julia's reaction.

Sobbing again, Valerie gripped her hair. She sat there for an hour, her mind racing. Finally, she couldn't take the silence or her thoughts any longer, and walked out the door without her coat or hat. She left a note for Molly, and left her phone lying on the couch.

She trudged down the street, in nothing but her sweater and jeans, her hair sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. The November wind slapped her, and she recieved many stares, but she kept her head down, focusing on her footsteps.

Her family would arrive at the end of the week, and now Julia was on her way. She couldn't burden Molly with housing so many people, but didn't want her loved ones to have to stay in a hotel. However, the apartment she had shared with Matt was still in her name. Technically, the apartment was still hers until the end of the month. At the moment, it appeared to be her only option.

She bumped into someone, making her fall backwards, but a hand grabbed hers before she could land on her butt.

She looked up, seeing a man with dark hair, and a few inches shorter than herself. He wore a suit, and had a sly grin on his face, that put Valerie on edge, but tried not to show it.

"Sorry," she rushed. "My mind was elsewhere. Thank you, though." She awkwardly released the mans hand, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Completely my fault," the man grinned, with an irish accent. "Are you alright?"

"Just a long day," Valerie mumbled, and started to side step the man, but he stepped with her, blocking her path.

"How about I buy you a cuppa?" he asked. "I'm Jim, by the way." He rushed to offer his hand, and Valerie hesitantly shook it.

"Thanks, but no thanks," she told him, glancing around. "I'm... I mean, I... I don't like tea, and I'm sort of dealing with something."

"Right, sorry," Jim apologized. "Sorry, you just remind me of someone, and, well... My apologies." He shook her hand again, before winking and strutting away.

Valerie watched him leave in confusion, before sniffling and crossing her arms. The crisp air was starting to get to her, and decided it was be time to head back. She stepped to the curb, and whistled, as she would normally do back home.

She recieved odd looks, and grumbled, before whistling agian, louder this time, and raising her hand. A second later, a cab pulled up, and she stepped in, now shivering. Valerie gave the cabbie the address of Molly's apartment through chattering teeth. "And please, hurry."


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter was not completed before it was abandoned.**

* * *

"I'll get it," Valerie called, wiping her hands on her apron.

Molly nodded as she put a sheet of cookies in the oven, and sighed as her friend left the kitchen. It had been a week since the murders, and she worried for the dark haired woman.

Valerie returned a moment later, holding a bag and leading an older woman with greying hair and sagging skin into the flat.

"Molly, this is Julia," she said, motioning with her free hand. "Julia, Molly."

Molly smiled kindly, and offered her hand. "It's so nice to meet you," she said. "I've heard so much about you."

Julia gave a grim smile, and shook Molly's outstretched hand. "I'm just sorry we have to meet under such terrible circumstances." She sniffled, and her eyes glistened. "Thank you for taking in Valerie after all of this."

Molly shot a glance at Valerie, who pointed to her ring finger, before making a slicing motion over her throat. Molly was shocked, but at the same time, couldn't blame Valerie for keeping Matt's affair a secret.

"Anything I can do to help, I'm happy to do so," she smiled.

Valerie gave her a thankful look, before leading Julia out of the kitchen.

Molly just shook her head after her. She couldn't believe Valerie hadn't said anything, but really, she couldn't blame her.

She just wondered if Valerie would ever be able to tell the truth.

* * *

 **And that's all she wrote! Like I said, this story is up for adoption. If you choose to adopt it, you do not have to follow what I have written. These chapters are simply to give you inspiration, so you can do what you want with them.**

 **If you're interested, PM me!**


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